


Figure Checking

by writingramblr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, F/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sort of? - Freeform, and smut helps, look elsewhere, no story here, omg this is so bad, so shameless, thanks to ep 8 i am sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark's last paycheck had a few things missing, so she goes to meet with the head Accountant, Petyr Baelish.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>[Yeah that plot's so thin this might as well be a porno.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Figure Checking

**Author's Note:**

> no excuses, no shame. this was inspired by one of my other works and uses some words but barely a paragraph, and here i thought i'd be using the whole thing and just changing the names lazily. hell no said the muses.  
> psh.
> 
> btw seriously not for kiddos.  
> I even embarrassed myself writing this. it's that hot.  
> wow.

The late afternoon sunlight reflected off the glass windows and the chrome edged door as Sansa Stark walked upstairs to the head accountant’s office. She’d been summoned because there had been a problem with her last paycheck, her holiday pay had not registered, and she’d not even noticed until the morning the money had been deposited, or rather, _not_ deposited.

She paused right in front of the door, even though she could clearly see Petyr Baelish, the head of accounts sitting at his desk. She didn’t want to bother him, despite the fact she had an appointment.

She gave a gentle knock to the door, and he looked up to find her. She swallowed, and touched her hair, and smoothed her skirt unconsciously. He was not her boss by any means, but he was above her, and she wanted to ensure she looked professional.

He waved a hand at her, and she cracked the door open,

“May I come in?”

She knew she sounded timid, but it wasn’t often she got to venture upstairs to the main offices.

His smooth baritone answered swiftly and carelessly,

“Of course please. Come in and shut the door.”

His grey green eyes returned to his desk as she walked in, and turned away only to shut the door with a soft snap behind her.

***

Petyr Baelish knew of Sansa, the youngest, brightest, and most beautiful intern only from what he’d heard around the office. Some of the gossip, especially from the ladies was quite one sided and catty, but overall, she was well liked.

He’d known her almost since birth, as her mother Cat Stark had once been engaged to him, but circumstances had turned against them, leading to an amicable separation.

Amicable to her at least.

But when the day dawned that Sansa Stark walked into his office building, red hair like flames that caressed her face and complimented her pale skin and beauty, he suddenly didn’t care about Cat.

He was glad for any and all excuses to see her, to be near to her. She wasn’t working directly below him, and for that he was grateful.

More than once he’d nearly let slip how he’d like to take her out sometime, buy her a coffee, or whatever pretty girls like her liked to drink, and get to know her better.

It was much more tactful than telling her how he’d thought about taking her over his desk for the last week.

When he’d discovered a discrepancy with her paycheck, he’d immediately offered to go over it with her, and take care of any details.

Her boss had been impatient and just eager to resolve the issue, even when Petyr assured him that Sansa would never threaten any legal action.

At least, not for that.

He’d spotted her walking up the stairs to approach his office only milliseconds before she’d reached his door. Her hair was up in a tight bun, but as it was nearing the end of a long workday, wisps of red had begun to escape and curl about her face. He’d seen it catch the sunlight and he’d bitten the inside of his cheek to keep from looking any longer. She’d knocked on his door, and he’d pretended to just see her.

He’d ushered her in, and snuck another look at her when her back was turned.

His chair squeaked slightly as he shifted position. She always was the picture of elegance in black and white or grey, but today had chosen a skirt that was most definitely too tight, and needed to be disposed of quickly.

Preferably on his office floor.

He smiled tightly, before looking back up at her from the paperwork littering his desk. He gestured to a chair,

“Please, sit. This won’t take long.”

***

Sansa always swore office’s felt a few degrees colder than the halls, and perhaps it was because of all the sunshine breaking through and defeating the air conditioning. But not Petyr’s office. It was the perfect temperature. Almost too warm. Sansa tried to subtly blow her stray hairs out of her face without looking too uncomfortable.

Unfortunately he noticed.

“Is everything alright Miss Stark?”

Sansa winced at the formal title. She knew it was proper, but she despised how it sounded.

“Sansa please Mister Baelish.”

That strange smile of his played about his lips, and she almost felt as if he was laughing at her,

“If you want to be that way, call me Petyr. Now have a look at this, does it look correct?”

While he’d swept up the papers into his hands, and walked around his desk to stand beside her, Sansa could have sworn she felt the room rise in temperature a couple more degrees.

He was standing so close she could smell him. He smelled rather like mint leaves steeping in hot tea. Refreshing and intoxicating. Sansa shook herself, now was not the time to be slipping into her fantastical thoughts.

She frowned at the paper, attempting to concentrate on the numbers, but they didn’t hold her focus. She nearly went crossed eyed as Petyr’s right hand moved in front of her, pointing to a precise spot on the page, but all she could see were how long and elegant his fingers were. She felt her cheeks flush as she began to wonder if he was long and elegant anywhere else.

***

He could almost touch her. It wouldn’t be right. Wouldn’t be proper. Then why did he want to? Why had he taken such a cursory glance outside his office before moving to stand behind her?

He smiled wryly to himself as he imagined someone walking in on them. Perfectly innocent.

Until he caught a whiff of lemon. He leaned closer, his hand pointing, using it as an excuse to hone in on the right column where her check should be, and breathed in deeply.

Her hair was gorgeously tied up, and smelled like lemon tarts. Or perhaps that was her skin? He would love to taste her to be sure.

“Any questions?”

He licked his lips as he awaited her reply.

She seemed to wake herself from a reverie, and he heard her inhale swiftly,

“Yes, I’m not sure what exactly that means? Do I have another check I need to deposit, or will it be combined with my next one?”

Petyr grinned,

“I’d write you a check for the difference right now if I could. But yes, it will be on the next one. Will that be alright?”

He moved away from her, regretting every inch of space, until he was leaning over his desk again, watching her carefully.

When her gaze dropped from him to the paper in her delicate hands, his eyes drank her in. The prim white blouse she wore concealed a modest nude bra, the lace edging of which he could _just_ make out as she leaned towards the page.

He almost sat back down again, the sudden need to conceal himself overriding the satisfaction he got from the current view.

***

Sansa felt confused, besides looking the figures over, what exactly did she need to do?

“Of course. I’m pretty patient. I can wait another week.”

She smiled shyly at him, and when he matched the expression, she almost relaxed. Except for the fact she could feel a bead of sweat slipping down her back between her shoulder blades, which surely would show when she stood up and turned to go.

Her eyebrows lifted,

“Is that all? Can I go?”

Petyr looked lost in thought until he heard the last word, and he shook his head quickly,

“Not yet. I need you to sign this. It just acknowledges that you understand what I told you.”

Sansa held back a nervous giggle,

“I’m not sure I do. But if that’s what you want.”

Petyr’s smile tightened, and Sansa suddenly worried she’d been too casual with him,

“Yes. What I want.”

Instead of sliding the piece of paper with the underline on it across the desk, Petyr seemed to be holding it hostage on the other side, so Sansa rose to her feet, rather unsteadily, and moved around the wooden table. As he stepped back, gesturing to the paper where he needed her signature, she caught a whiff of his cologne again, that divine mint scent.

She tilted her head, squinted at the page, and took the pen Petyr offered her, feeling his hand beneath hers momentarily. It was his left hand that pointed to the page this time, and she fought the urge to stare too long it.

She leaned over the desk slightly, touching the pen to the paper, and began to scrawl.

***

Petyr could barely contain his internal approval. She’d followed as he’d directed, perhaps unconsciously, but completely of her own volition.

He snatched a final look around the outside of his office, content it was abandoned enough, before he handed Sansa the pen. When she moved to stand directly in front of him, he couldn’t help it, he felt his jaw tighten as he inhaled another lungful of the precious air surrounding her.

He’d felt heat like fire burn through him the instant his hand touched hers, just passing a metal pen to her grip. But how he envied that pen.

She finished signing her name, and moved to the side, looking back at him to confirm that she’d completed it correctly.

His hands itched to touch her, and he cursed himself for missing the opportunity that had been presented. But he didn’t want to take advantage. He needed absolute certainty that she wanted it too.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

He saw her cheeks turn pink, and it complimented the flame of her hair. Her ice blue eyes flew up to his, and she smiled,

“It’s just my name.”

Petyr decided to throw caution to the winds, and hell with it all.

“It’s lovely. Just like you.”

He saw her breath hitch, from the way her chest moved, before snapping his gaze back up to her face, and when he saw her lips part, and her eyelids drop, he plucked the pen from her hand, sensing the electric feel again.

Sansa looked momentarily surprised, but didn’t move a single inch. He took the opportunity and closed the distance between them, his right hand lifting to cup her cheek, and his thumb stroked the soft skin, before he spoke in a husky whisper,

“Okay?”

She licked her lips, and nodded, and he leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss.

The kiss began softly, gently, and Sansa marveled that she had never been kissed like this. The moment was earth shattering. Their lips began to move, the kiss became more rough, as Petyr felt like a thirst had suddenly emerged in him, such that would only be quenched by the taste of her mouth, her skin, and the feel of her beneath him.

They parted, and Sansa was breathing hard, her hair slowly becoming freer and freer from the tight grip of the tie.

Petyr grinned at that and reached up with his free hand to pull it free. Crimson waves fell down Sansa’s back and shoulders, almost matching the tone of her kiss flushed mouth.

“I have wanted you for so long.”

He could have bit his tongue for confessing so quickly, but something about her drove him mad. Luckily it seemed he wasn’t alone in the madness. She blushed again, and a nervous laugh escaped her lips,

“I’ve wanted this too.”

Petyr wove a hand through her hair and brought her towards him for another kiss before he spoke again, right against her lips,

“Have you thought about this often? Coming into my office and letting me have my way with you?”

Sansa might have groaned, or it could have been coming from him.

“Yes.”

***

Sansa took up a grip on Petyr’s tie, to ensure she would not wrinkle his suit jacket or shirt, though she ached to anchor herself on his shoulders.

When she felt his hands under her, lifting her up onto his desk, not before sweeping papers and pens aside, she gasped aloud.

Not just because of the disorganization and clutter being created in _his_ space, but the touch of his palms. Their heat seemed to burn right through her skirt.

“I need you.”

She breathed aloud, surprising herself with her own desperation, and when he grinned at her, in his teasing manner, she felt no shame.

His hands roamed her freely, and he promptly ripped her blouse open, tearing the buttons and another gasp from her throat.

“Oh my wicked girl, how long have you been wearing this? All week?”

Sansa frowned, looking at her plain nude bra, which she’d never have put in the sexy category, but apparently Petyr liked. She decided to play along,

“Yes. I was hoping you’d get to see it.”

He kissed her again, even as his hands began to knead her breasts over the bra, and she winced as he bit her bottom lip non too gently before moving away,

“Tisk. Don’t be a liar Sansa. Show me.”

He let go of her, and she missed the touch of his hands almost at once. She’d never felt such an ache before, spreading all the way from her sore lip to her secret place between her thighs.

She was suddenly grateful that she was at least wearing a nude colored thong. Surely that was appealing?

She shed the remains of her blouse and began to unzip her skirt, but he shook his head,

“Stop. Leave it on. Take off your panties.”

The cocked finger he pointed at her made her feel as if she was becoming light headed, but she complied. She bent over quickly and shucked off her undies, not failing to notice that her position brought her eye level to his now obvious erection beneath his dark trousers. How had she not spotted it before?

The hardwood behind her that she leaned on reminded her why.

He plucked the undies from her hand and brought them to his nose, before sniffing delicately, and then tucking them into a pocket.

Sansa gulped, and then gave him a tentative smile, before her eyes slipped down to eye his pants again.

Petyr grinned,

“See something you like?”

Sansa bit her lip, and despite the twinge of pain, felt another bolt of arousal shoot down her spine.

“Yes.”

Her hands moved towards the belt and zipper, but his slapped them away.

“Not today sweetling. Turn around.”

Sansa’s eyes were surely wide as saucers as she obeyed him, and reluctantly moved to face the desk. But the glass walls and door gave her pause.

“What if someone comes by?”

Her voice broke at the end, and her heartbeat was surely loud enough for the entire building to hear.

Petyr’s hand slipped around to rake up her skirt, fingers just barely grazing over her throbbing clit, and she moaned, almost not listening his words,

“Then they will see me taking you over my desk, like the depraved man I am.”

Sansa bit her lip again, to keep from saying anything, for how could she reply to that?

***

Petyr was about to go out of his mind. For with Sansa practically bent over his desk in front of him, skirt up over her hips, exposing her wetness and revealing how much she did want this, he might have gone off in his pants if she’d been touching him. Luckily, like the clever girl she was, she was attempting to find a hold on his desk, for she surely knew what was coming. He couldn’t resist running his hand over her skin, feeling the sweat mingle with her arousal, withdrawing his fingers from her slick warmth before bringing them to his mouth, if anything, it made him harder.

She tasted exquisitely of lemons, and just how that was possible was a mystery for another time.

With both hands he undid his pants and shoved them carelessly down and away, leaving himself naked from the waist down, exposed to clear view of anyone who _did_ care to pass by his office.

He squeezed her bottom and he felt her tense up,

“Relax. Or it will hurt more.”

He felt her body obey, and he smiled to himself. She seemed to take his commands quite well.

He gave her only a moment to herself before thrusting inside her. The gasp that fell from her lips might have been a winter wind, so quiet and cool it was.

But the way she felt around him, like eternal hellfire and sin. She was so tight, so hot, and so deliciously wet for him; he almost stopped moving to maintain control of him own bourgeoning arousal and say a prayer of gratitude.

Sansa started moving beneath him, wiggling her hips to gain friction, and he could have laughed at the impetuousness of it all. His hands stayed on her lush hips, pulling her back and pushing her forward, pistoning himself in and out, keeping the rhythm under his control.

She whimpered something, and he paused, managing to drive himself and her both insane with want,

“What was that?”

Sansa groaned, and tried to move backwards, impaling herself deeper on his length,

“More please. Harder!”

“As you wish.”

He gripped her harder, and he knew his hands would leave bruises, but he didn’t care. He gave her what she wanted as she gave him his desire.

The hard wood of the desk was surely beginning to hurt her, so he relinquished his hold on her hip and slipped his hand around to stroke her clit. His thumb began to move in circles, and he felt the flutter of her walls around him.

He heard her gasp the instant he pressed his thumb hard and felt her inner muscles clench his cock in a vise like grip.

His eyes fell shut as he felt her ride out the shock wave of her orgasm, and it took almost little effort for him to follow her over the edge.

He returned his hands to her hips and thrust leisurely a few times more as she milked him completely.

***

Sansa knew she was soaked to the bone with sweat, but she’d never felt so satisfied from getting there. No early morning run could compare to this. She had collapsed onto the desk, no longer caring that it was hard unfeeling wood, for it was a flat surface that supported her.

She felt herself flush as Petyr pulled out and away from her, and their combined juices dripped down her thighs.

She knew he’d be asking any second, so she decided to spare him the trouble.

“I’m on the Pill, don’t worry. I’m not a virgin either, but I almost wish I had been.”

A warm hand on her sensitive skin made her jump, and she realized he was cleaning her thighs off, before pulling her skirt back down over her bare cheeks.

She slowly stood back upright, and turned to look at him.

He was the picture of sin, pants nowhere to be seen, tie undone and nearly falling off, with his suit jacket tossed aside. His long dress shirt barely covered what she knew to be an impressive cock.

His grey green eyes watched her cautiously, and she smiled at him, trying to put him at ease.

“It was wonderful. You were…”

She trailed off, and waved a hand around, words utterly failing her.

Petyr finally smirked at her, and despite having just let him ravage her in his office, she still blushed.

“Thank you. You may go now.”

Sansa might have been insulted if she hadn’t recalled he’d kidnapped her panties.

A flash of fabric caught her eye as he refastened his pants and collapsed in his desk chair, and her smirk rivaled his own.

“Good night Mister Baelish.”

She paused at the door, and wasn’t disappointed by the look he gave her, the sweet promise of future endeavours, as he patted the pocket containing his prize,

“Good night Miss Stark.”

***

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> i could write pages of their sexual tension, but i also really wanted to write sex. yay


End file.
